I sat in the middle section of the lecture hall, about halfway up, my mind drifting as usual during Professor Jones’s calculus class. God, why did this semester have to be so brutal? I’d always been the golden girl. Top three in my high school class and acing everything in college until now. But calculus? It was kicking my ass, and my focus was shot. Maybe it was the loneliness creeping in again. Dad had died three years ago, and Mom was buried in work back home, leaving me to fend for myself in this dorm. No real friends, just study groups and late nights. And the horniness… fuck, it was constant. At 19, I felt like a walking volcano, my body betraying me at the worst times. I’d daydream about the professors, the hot guys in my classes, and anyone with a pulse, really. But Professor Jones? He was my favorite fantasy. Mid-50s, salt-and-pepper hair that waved naturally on top with a tight fade on the sides, no balding in sight. He looked like the kind of man who’d take charge, like a father figure I craved since losing mine. I imagined running my fingers through that hair, pulling his handsome face between my thighs, making him devour my young, aching cunt.
He was mid-lecture, scribbling derivatives on the board, his voice deep and commanding. My hand had slipped under my skirt without me even realizing it at first—habit, I guess. The hall was sparsely filled, no one too close, so I let my fingers slide into my panties, circling my clit under the fabric. The pressure built, my pussy throbbing with need. I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet, but the slickness was already soaking through. His words blurred into background noise as I imagined him noticing, his eyes darkening with lust.
Then it hit me, he was noticing. Professor Jones paused, his gaze flicking back to me a few times. Yep, he was watching. My heart raced, a mix of panic and thrill shooting through me. I could smell my own arousal now, musky and sweet, hanging in the air like a confession. Thank God no one was sitting nearby. I yanked my hand away, cheeks burning, pretending to take notes as my pussy clenched in protest.
He wrapped up the lecture smoothly, as if nothing happened, and dismissed the class. But then: “Ms. O’Brien, please come here.” My stomach dropped. He scribbled something on a note at his podium and handed it to me without a word, then walked away. Mortified, I unfolded it: You have failed this class. The camera behind my podium got a good view of what you were doing. You have broken the laws as well as the rules of this school. You will report to my office at 5:30 sharp and wait for my math group to end.
Failed? Laws? My mind screamed in horror, but my body… oh God, my pussy flooded instantly. Soaked, pulsing, begging for more. I should have been terrified. My perfect record shattered, expulsion looming, but instead, I was so fucking horny I could barely walk straight. The thought of him watching me, knowing what I’d done… it made me want to drop to my knees right there. I rushed back to my single dorm, legs trembling, the note crumpled in my fist. As soon as the door shut, I cranked up some music loud, thumping bass to drown out any moans and stripped off my skirt and panties, before flopping onto the bed.
My long red hair fanned out around me as I spread my legs wide, my pale, freckled skin flushing with heat. I was so wet already, my bald pussy lips glistening, swollen, and desperate. I trailed my fingers down my flat stomach, over the smooth mound, and dipped into my folds. Fuck, the slickness coated my fingertips immediately. I circled my clit slowly at first, teasing the hard little nub, imagining Professor Jones in his office, replaying the footage of me. He’s probably hard right now, thinking about punishing me, I thought, my breath hitching. I could seduce him so easily. Walk in, lock the door, and start undressing—slowly, letting my shirt slip off to reveal my heavy breasts, no bra, my pale areolas just a shade darker than my skin, nipples hardening under his stare.
I pinched my clit harder, gasping, as the fantasy deepened. I’d drop to my knees in front of him, my green eyes looking up pleadingly. “Please, Professor, let me make it up to you,” I’d whisper, unzipping his pants to free his cock. In my mind, it was thick, veined, the head already leaking pre-cum. I’d take him in my mouth, sucking greedily, feeling him throb against my tongue. But he wouldn’t let me control it. He’d grab my long red hair and thrust deep, fucking my throat until I gagged. Then he’d pull me up, bend me over his desk, and slam into me. Deep and strong, owning my tight young pussy, I thought, plunging two fingers inside myself now, curling them to hit that spot that made my toes curl. My walls clenched around them, juices dripping down my ass crack. I fucked myself faster, riding my smooth folds as my fingers worked in and out, the slick sounds obscene over the music, my palm grinding against my clit with every thrust inward. He’d call me his good girl, his dirty little slut, filling me up until I screamed.
The orgasm built like a storm, my hips bucking off the bed. I rubbed my clit furiously with one hand. while the other pumped in and out, imagining his cock stretching me, pounding relentlessly. “Fuck, yes, Professor… own me!” I moaned aloud, and then it hit—waves crashing through me, my pussy spasming so hard I almost squirted, a gush of wetness soaking my hand and the sheets. I collapsed, panting, my body trembling with aftershocks. But the loneliness hit again, a sharp pang in my chest. Why am I like this? So desperate for connection, even if it’s twisted.
I regained my composure, but my mind wandered back. What if he didn’t play innocent? What if he took control right away? I imagined him grabbing my long red hair, yanking me by it. Then pinning me against the wall, his muscular hand gripping my hair, holding me there. “You dirty little slut,” he’d growl, his fingers groping my breasts roughly, twisting my nipples until I whimpered. Then down, shoving under my skirt to finger-fuck my bald, pale pussy. Two thick digits invading me, stretching my slick hole while his thumb ground against my clit. I’d be dripping, begging for more. He’d force me to my knees, fucking my mouth hard, mascara streaking down my cheeks as I choked on his length, loving every brutal thrust. Tears of ecstasy, not pain.
My hand wandered to my nightstand, grabbing my vibrator—a thick, ridged one that always made me see stars. I slicked it with my juices and eased it into my ass, gasping as my tight asshole stretched around the invading toy, the ring of muscle burning deliciously before yielding, inch by inch, until it was buried deep, filling me with that forbidden fullness. In the dream, he dragged me to his desk by my hair, hiked up my skirt, pushed my thong aside, and dipped his full length into my pussy first—8 inches at least, thicker than the boys I’d fucked before, splitting me open. But then he’d pull out, slick with me, and press against my ass. “Take it, you filthy whore,” he’d say, plowing into my tight hole, deep and hard, using me like a toy. I turned the vibrator on, the buzz sending jolts through me as I rubbed my clit again, fucking myself in rhythm. His balls slapping against me, calling me his cumslut, his property. The second orgasm exploded, even stronger. I squirted for real this time, arcs of clear fluid soaking the bed, my body convulsing in bliss. “Oh God, yes!” I cried, riding it out until I was spent.
Reality crashed back. Fuck, the sheets again. I had two hours, so I stripped the bed and showered quickly. The hot water stung my sensitive tits—full C-cups, heavy and perky, my nipples still hard. I couldn’t resist soaping my pussy again, circling my clit lightly, praying he’d own me like in my dreams. Please, let this be real. I ran downstairs to wash the sheets, my mind racing with excitement and nerves. By five pm, back in my room, I dressed in a fresh black thong, a short plaid skirt, a black T-shirt, and no bra. My nipples poking through faintly. I was horny again already. What the fuck is wrong with me? Seriously, what the fuck! This constant ache, this need to be filled, to be wanted.
At 5:40, I was already sitting outside his office, fidgeting as the math group filed out. A dozen nerdy boys and girls, glancing at me curiously. Finally, he appeared at the door. “Ms. O’Brien, come in.” His voice was firm, sending a shiver down my spine. I followed him inside, shutting the door behind me. God, I wanted to lock it. I swear I could smell my arousal blooming again, my thong dampening.
He sat at his desk, pulling out paperwork. “I’ve filled this out,” he said coolly, showing me the forms, an F in the class, no drop allowed, report to administration for indecent exposure. The camera footage was mentioned, and blurred stills were attached. Tears welled up immediately, hot and desperate. “No, sir, you can’t. Please don’t. Let me drop. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything.”
He leaned back, eyes narrowing. “What does that mean?” Oh fuck I have a chance, I thought, looking at him confused. He said it again, “What does ‘anything’ mean?”
My heart pounded, loneliness and horniness colliding in a frenzy. This is it, my chance to be seen, to be taken. “It means anything,” I whispered, my voice husky with need. “You’ll let me drop, you’ll never see me again… or I’ll let you watch me, inches away. Or…” I went all in, leaning closer, my green eyes locked on his. Tops of my pale breasts on display. “I’ll be your fuck toy until you’re bored with me. Use me, Professor. Please.”
His expression shifted. A dark, hungry, predatory smile curling his lips. “That one, you desperate little slut. Lock the fucking door.”
I did, hands shaking with anticipation, my pussy clenching at his words. Turning back, I saw him in front of his desk, cock already out and hard. It was magnificent. Eight inches of thick, veined perfection, the head purple and throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip like an invitation. He was fit for his age, broad shoulders straining his button-up, that salt-and-pepper hair tousled as if he’d been thinking about this too. Oh fuck, it’s real. He wants me as badly as I want him.
“Strip for me, Katie,” he commanded, stroking himself slowly. “Show me that young body you’ve been teasing me with.”
I peeled off my T-shirt, my heavy C-cup breasts bouncing free, pale freckled skin glowing under the office light. My areolas were faint pink, nipples stiff peaks begging for attention. He sighed audibly, eyes devouring me like I was his prize. “Fucking perfect. Those tits are made for my hands.” Skirt next, shimmying it down my hips, then my thong, stepping out to leave me naked, my bald pussy glistening, lips puffy and wet, arousal trickling down my inner thigh.
“Crawl to me, slut,” he growled. “On your knees where you belong.”
I dropped, crawling across the carpet, my ass swaying, tits jiggling with each movement. The humiliation fueled my fire. Yes, degrade me, own me, fill the emptiness inside. Up close, his cock smelled musky, intoxicating, the vein pulsing under my gaze. I took him in my mouth without hesitation, sucking eagerly, tongue swirling around the head to lap up his pre-cum. “That’s it, suck your professor’s cock like the whore you are,” he groaned, hands fisting my red hair tightly. I bobbed deeper, gagging as he hit my throat, but I loved it. The stretch, the dominance, the way he filled my mouth completely. He thrust faster, fucking my face. “Take it all, you greedy girl. Choke on it.”
He came hard and sudden, and I wasn’t expecting the ropes of hot, thick cum flooding my mouth already. I swallowed desperately, the salty taste overwhelming, but it overflowed, splattering my chin, cheeks, and tits in sticky warmth. God, yes! Mark me as yours. He pulled me up roughly by the hair, crashing his lips to mine in a deep, possessive kiss, our tongues swapping his cum back and forth, filthy and intimate. I moaned into his mouth, my pussy aching emptily, juices dripping onto the floor.
“Up on the desk, legs spread,” he ordered, lifting me effortlessly, my ass on the edge, knees hooked over his elbows to splay me wide. My pale folds parted obscenely, exposing my dripping hole, clit swollen and extended from its hood, throbbing visibly. “Look at this tight little cunt begging for me,” he murmured, rubbing his cockhead through my slickness, teasing my entrance. “Tell me you need it, Katie. Beg like the slut you are.”
“Please, Professor, fuck me,” I whimpered, my voice breaking with desperation. “Own my pussy. Stretch me with that big cock. I need you so bad that it hurts.”
He slammed in without mercy, brutally deep, his 8-inch length splitting me open, thicker than any boy I’d let inside before, hitting my cervix with every thrust. I screamed in ecstasy, my walls clenching around him like a vice. “Fuck, you’re so tight! Milking me already,” he grunted, pounding hard, his balls slapping my ass rhythmically. Papers scattered off the desk as he rutted into me, his hips snapping with force. He’s destroying me, filling every inch, making me whole. This is what I craved, this raw possession. My thoughts spun wildly, pleasure bordering on pain, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“You’re mine now, you filthy cumslut,” he snarled, one hand wrapping around my throat lightly, the other pinching my nipple hard. “This young pussy belongs to me. Say it!”
“You’re a god, Professor! You own me, every hole!” I cried, my body arching, orgasm ripping through me like lightning. My pussy spasmed, squirting around his cock, soaking us both as waves of bliss made me shake uncontrollably. Fuck, yes! I’m breaking apart, and it’s perfect. “Cum in me, professor, I am on the pill!” He followed seconds later, roaring as he flooded me with hot cum, deep and pulsing, claiming me completely.
We collapsed, panting, his weight pinning me deliciously. But I knew this was just the start. He owned me now, and I was his eager, broken toy, the loneliness finally shattered.
That’s when I saw his phone, a picture of a dark-haired beauty, labeled “Wife”. He pushed the speaker. I could hear her panting, “She can hear you, dear!”
Her panting slowed her speech, “Please, Daddy! Bring the slut home! Let her whore mouth eat my cunt and ass for your big dick.” Pant, pant, “Or I will prepare her for you, Daddy!”
